


Not all Attraction is Physical

by Howland



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 3
Genre: Affection, Body Image, Drunkenness, Friends With Benefits, Friendship, Frottage, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Injury, and possibly all the consent issues that tag along with that, mild body horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-30
Updated: 2014-07-30
Packaged: 2018-02-11 01:11:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2047470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Howland/pseuds/Howland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not many people would believe it but Gob and the Hero of the Wastes are friends.  Good friends.  Best friends even.  Now our hero wants to share a little more with Megaton's resident bar keep, but Gob isn't so sure about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not all Attraction is Physical

**Author's Note:**

> I've found that Gob is super neglected in the Fallout Fandom which makes me sad. Figured I'd take a step to rectify the dearth of Gob fics out there and let him have a little fun while I was at it.

It’s a Tuesday. Not that anyone gives a damn about what day of the week it is anymore, but his PipBoy handily flashes this information at him any ways along with the time and the ambient air temperature, and the atmospheric humidity, and the proximity of all other living things in a fifty meter radius, and his approximate blood-alcohol content. 

23:56, 17.8 degrees Celsius, 21%, varying, and 0.16 respectively. 

That last one could be higher. 

He taps the display light off with a sigh and brings the bottle of vodka to his lips for another swig. The night is waning, he’d best get cracking. 

“How you doing, friend?” Gob’s voice drifts, crackly and warm, through the growing alcohol haze falling over Chris. He tosses his hair back from his face and props his elbow on the bar and his cheek in his hand so he can toss the barkeep a grimace of a smile. 

“Just fine.” He murmurs, sloppily pushing the bottle to his lips and tilting out another swallow. He’s long stopped wincing at the burn. “Getting better.”

“Tough day, drunkie?”

The hero of the wastes snorts and lets his arm fold down so he can pillow his head against it on the bar. “The usual.”

Gob snorts but doesn’t interrogate him further. Chris smiles into his forearm. 

Senses dulled it takes Chris awhile to process the sounds of the ghoul scrubbing something gummy off the bar a few feet from his head. The swishing, scratchy sounds of the rag going over the ancient salvaged metal is oddly soothing and he finds himself zoning out even further, sinking bonelessly forward over the bar, his butt sliding back until his balance is in the precarious space between comfortable and untenable. 

“I think you’ve had enough.” There’s a quiet affection in Gob’s voice as Chris feels the mostly-empty liquor bottle being carefully pried from his fingers. He’s not offended. Gob’s probably right. 

“You’re probably right.” He admits aloud, his voice fairly steady despite the muddled state of his brain. 

“Damn right.” The ghoul mutters. Chris keeps his head down as he hears Gob put a cork in the bottle and stash it on a back shelf. 

Chris waits for the inevitable, gentle insults Gob will use to prod him out the door, but for the moment he enjoys his perch, listening to his friend as he goes back to scrubbing the counter down. 

He likes it here. It’s warm, dark, and quiet this time of night, and he’s not alone. He’s got Gob. Just him and Gob. Nova’s upstairs knocking boots with a client, and Moriarty’s probably sleeping off his latest binge in his room behind the bar. 

Just him and Gob. 

He smiles again but tilts his face so he can peer at the blurry figure of his friend puttering around next to him. 

“I like you.” He murmurs sincerely. Under his scrutiny his friend stiffens for a moment before turning a bewildered expression his way. 

“I like you too, drunkie.” He offers hesitantly. “Don’t give away discounts to just anybody.”

The wanderer shakes his head with a snort, and he likes the way his combat armor feels rubbing against his face so he does it again, grinning to himself. “That’s not why I like you.”

After a moment Gob sighs and tosses the rag into a bucket with splat. “Why do you like me then?” He prods, sounding like he knows better than to ask but can’t help himself. 

Chris can’t help but laugh a little. It’s so typical Gob, suspicious to the end. 

“I like you ‘cuz you’re a good guy Gob. You take care of me. I appreciate that.”

Gob’s half-molted eyelids blink a few times in the meager light of the bar. Chris can’t make out too many details but he imagines the ghoul is looking at him like he’s grown a second head. “I’m a barkeep, kid.” He grumbles. “Taking care of patrons is what I’m supposed to do.”

For a moment the man studies the mottled, ugly skin of his hands before he lowers them stiffly and moves to stalk his way out from behind the bar. 

He’s drunk, but he’s still got reflexes honed by more than year of surviving solo in the wasteland and Chris doesn’t let him get away. He reaches out and latches onto Gob’s forearm, unbothered by the dry, flaking skin under his fingers as he holds his friend steady in front of him. 

“I mean it.” He picks his head up, his gaze firm as he meets Gob’s eyes. “I like you.”

There’s a skittishness, a loneliness, an absolute lack of understanding the ghoul’s eyes as he stares back at Megaton’s saviour, a man he likes to think he’s gotten to be fairly good friends with in the last months. 

The thing is he hasn’t had many friends before, not since he left Underworld, not since he ended up in this pit of a town. Nova’s good to him, and he believes he could count on her in most things, but if push comes to shove Nova will ultimately look out for Nova and he can’t blame her for that. 

When Chris looks at him though, he looks at him like wants Gob’s trust, his devotion, his loyalty and he’s willing to promise that that faith won’t be misplaced. 

“I want to take care of _you,_ Gob.”

A ghoul’s heart beats at less than half the speed of a normal human’s, slowed by some radiant mutation, but Gob could swear now its going at least as fast as it did before the bombs fell. It hurts, actually, like an aching swell in his chest, and he can’t tell if its physical or just a raw fresh burn of feeling. 

“What are you saying, Christopher?” He articulates each syllable of Chris’s name the way Chris’s father did back in the vaults when he’d done something particularly mischievous. The man has to fight back the urge to wince because he knows he’s fucking this up and making Gob hurt when all he wants to do is to make him feel a little bit better. 

He likes Gob. Maybe he wouldn’t try this when he was completely sober, but he _likes Gob,_ and he can’t really see a downside to giving this a try. 

“Gob, I _like_ you.” He wills his friend to understand but the ghoul just shakes his head and yanks his arm out Christopher’s grasp. 

“Bullshit.”

“I’m serious!” He rasps, half rising from his stool leaning forward over the bar. He fights to keep himself steady, to make himself appear collected as he presses the proposal. “I’m a bit drunk now, yeah, but this isn’t the first time I’ve wanted to ask. I just figured now was a good time, no one else is here to eavesdrop, it’s late, you gotta close up shop anyways. Come back to my place with me, it’s more comfortable than the floor and don’t lie to me and say you weren’t gonna sleep down there because I know you don’t like using the spare room after Nova’s had a John in there with her.” 

He softens the intensity of his gaze into something gentler, goofier, and he reaches out with a hand over the bar, leaning heavily on his other elbow to keep himself upright. 

“We’ll still be friends no matter what, even if we go back and you decide you want to just listen to GNR for a while and drink gin and pass out in separate rooms. I’ve got a couch as well as a bed.”

With deliberate effort he tries to lower his eyelids and look seductive. He probably just looks clumsy. “And you know,” He continues, licking his lips. “I’d like to try a little more than that if you would too.”

Gob looks, well, gobsmacked. After a long moment of silence he knocks Chris’ hand away, but he does it gently. “You’re writing checks you ain’t actually prepared to cash. You go home, drunkie. I promise you’re gonna regret this in the morning.”

Chris frowns and folds his arms under him so he can keep himself a little more steady against the bar. “You still got nerve endings?”

Gob snorts. “Yes, I still have nerve endings.”

“Then I don’t see the problem.” Chris shrugs awkwardly. “I’m sure we can figure something out.”

“Can we?” Gob asks, sarcastic, as he sweeps out from behind the bar and moves to try and pluck Chris up from his seat at the bar and herd him towards the door.

“Fuck yeah!” Chris enthuses, obeying the gentle press of Gob’s hands which get him to his feet and moving towards the door. “I’m adventurous, you’re fairly creative, we could make it work.”

“I’m not some experiment, Chris.” Gob grunts out. He’s not really angry, just tired, and he doesn’t want to be having this conversation anymore.

“Shit, I know that.” They’re almost to the door when Chris stops dead and even drunk he’s still one hundred forty-seven pounds of fit twenty-something man and Gob doesn’t want to push him so hard he falls down. The young man turns to face Gob full on and the ghoul tries to back up but the man’s got his hands on his forearms and he’s holding him close enough that Gob can smell the vodka still lingering on Chris’s breath and clearly see the earnestness in his eyes. 

“Gob, I know you think I’m teasing or being flippant but I’m not.” His tone sheds the loose, easy quality it had just minutes ago and turns serious. Something in Gob’s chest stutters and he hopes its not his heart, goddamn that god forsaken organ.

“When I walked out of that vault and into Megaton I was, Jesus, I was fucking lost Gob. I had just killed for my first time, been abandoned by my father, been driven from my home, and thrust into a nuclear wasteland. If I hadn’t been so in shock I probably would have tried to kill myself, I was so overwhelmed and so fucking _miserable_. But you, man, you were this bizarre, terrifying specter and - let me finish, jesus - you were the scariest thing I’d ever seen, and you turned out to have this heart of pure gold. You were something kind and gentle and in your own way you were sweet in all this destruction and I don’t think I relaxed at all in those first few months except when I was in here with you. Do you understand what I’m trying to say?”

Gob swallowed hard around the prick of resentment which bubbled up, swallowed hard around the lump in his throat which he resolutely refused to acknowledge. 

“I understand that you were a naive nineteen year old kid who was a terrible judge of character.”

For a moment Gob went stiff, expecting hurt to blossom on that handsome face, but he should have known. Chris was always full of surprises. 

Chris laughed.

“Maybe you’re right.” He chuckled, rubbing his thumbs over the rough patches of skin on the insides of Gob’s wrists, sending tingles up the ghoul’s arms. 

_‘It’s been such a long time..._

“Maybe you’re right, but it doesn’t change the fact that I feel close to you, Gob. I’m not a pro at this. I’ve met a couple people out there, had a couple encounters, but nothing much.” Cautiously the man loosens his grip on Gob’s wrists but the ghoul isn’t going anywhere yet, and he watches with detached disbelief as those fingers trail up the exposed skin of his arms, over his dirty t-shirt, up his throat which flexes as he swallows, and ghost over the torn layers of skin and muscle of his cheeks. 

They’re more or less the same height but Gob feels abruptly very small as Chris leans forward, holding his head in his hands as he moves to touch their foreheads together. Gob doesn’t think about it as his own hands come up to hold onto either side of Chris’ waist, holding the young man steady in front of him. 

“Can I kiss you?” He rasps the words into Gob’s slightly open mouth and the bar tender shudders. 

“Why would you want to?” He manages to croak out and Chris laughs again, humid puffs of air clouding over Gob’s dry skin and apparently his words are permission enough because the great Hero of the Wastes leans in and cover’s Gob’s lips with his own. 

It feels warm. 

For a long moment they’re both still, Gob knowing well enough that if he moves this moment could shatter right apart, but Chris shifts his hold on the man’s head, firms it, and tilts his own face to the side. His lips part to close around what’s left of Gob’s lower lip, drawing the rough bit of flesh into his mouth and sucking on it gently, causing Gob to exhale more sharply than he means and open his own mouth in reply, his hands skating up the boy’s ribs to wrap around his back, fanning his hands over his shoulder blades, his spine, pulling him closer as he lets Chris’ tongue into his mouth. 

Gob tastes like rust and leather. Nova told him this, the one time she had deigned to kiss him in exchange for a couple caps. 

The combination doesn’t sound appealing to him, but Chris only sighs in his arms and presses closer, lets go of his face to wrap his arms around his neck, licking deep into his mouth and coaxing his own tongue into play. 

It’s wet, wetter than Gob remembers but its been such a long time. It’s also warm, lively, sweet, and god help him, but Gob knows he’s made up his mind. Damn whatever morning may bring. 

After a moment they separate, Chris pressing their foreheads together as they both breath a little heavier than normal, eyes switching between shy glances at each-other’s faces, and closing to offer the other some privacy. 

“Okay.” Gob rasps after a minute of just breathing in each other’s air and it’s more humid like this, warmer in a cool desert night, and Gob is weak, he knows it, but he’d do just about anything for a little bit more of this. 

“Good.” Chris whispers back, rocking his head back and forth so their noses brush before he pulls away and gives Gob a glorious smile. 

“Lock up then.” He orders, giddy, and Gob can’t help it, he lets up a smile too. It’s small and cautious, but it’s genuine. Chris’ heart swells. “Let’s go home.”

\----

Chris lives in one of the nicest houses in megaton. It’s just a slap-shod construct of old metal siding and corrugated iron, but it’s got two levels and a door that locks and there’d been a lot of argument going on about who would get to move in before Chris insinuated himself into the town. Old Meggie Turnbull had lived there almost since the first days of Megaton, and even though Gob had lived in the same town as her for nearly ten years and served her more whiskey than he could ever calculate, he’d never been invited inside this house before. 

The door swings open and it sheds _light_ , flooding and warm the way houses used to be so long ago and gob blinks owlishly in the glow, half a step behind Chris as they make their way inside. 

Upstairs there’s a jukebox crooning, the same old ballads Three Dog’s blasting out at all hours of the day and night, but they’re comforting in their repetition. 

“Watch the gnomes.” Chris murmurs as he motions Gob past him so he can close the door and lock it properly. The ghoul glances down at the floor and starts to laugh.

“What? I like them. They’re cheerful.” The door clicks shut sharply and Chris slides the bar over the door, sealing it from inside. 

“Sure.” Gob rasps. “Cheerful.”

“Yes. Cheerful.” There’s almost a pout in Chris’ tone but there’s a bashful smile on his face and Gob grins back. 

“How many do you have?” The barkeep asks and the Wanderer shrugs, undoing the front clasps on his flak jacket as he walks towards the stairs.

“Like, thirty?”

Gob laughs properly, genuinely amused as he follows his friend upstairs. “That’s quite the collection.”

“That’s nothing!” The young man calls back. He’s trotting up the stairs faster than Gob cares to follow, shirt over his head as he wrestles the jacket and the under armor off as quickly as he can. The ghoul lags behind as he hears his friend’s muffled voice calling down. “You should see all the deathclaw hands I’ve been hoarding.”

“Everybody needs a hobby.” The ghoul murmurs but Chris doesn’t seem to hear. On the middle of the stairs Gob goes still, one hand resting on the wall of the building, finger brushing over a little pin sized hole in the metal. 

Chris should patch it soon, it will only get worse with wear. 

“You coming up then or what?” Gob’s head snaps forward and for a moment he can’t find Chris until he looks straight up and sees the idiot grinning down at him, leaning over the edge of the upper landing which cuts over the stairs. 

“I wasn’t invited.” He offers simply. He knows it’s lame, but Chris just laughs. 

Christ the kid is always laughing. Too cheerful for the life he leads, the life they all lead. 

“Come on up then. We can sit around and drink Nuka Cola and listen to the radio or, I dunno, I have a chessboard up here.”

“You invited me over for Chess?” Gob asks dryly, one hand picking absently at a tear in the hem of his shirt and as he reaches the top of the stairs he can hear Chris getting to his feet behind him. 

“Not really.” The young man admits, drawing up alongside Gob and touching him gently at the small of his back. “But we can if you want to.”

“You that drunk kid?” Gob goads but Chris’ smile is unflappable.

“I’m just drunk enough to be up for anything.”

There’s trust, contentment in having Gob here, having him close, and Chris means it when he says he’s up for anything. It’s nice to have someone close again. He’s been very alone since Vault 101. With a sigh he leans into Gob’s shoulder and for a moment shuts his eyes, letting the female voice on the radio lull him. 

“I still don’t think you know what you’re getting into kid.” There’s a nervousness in Gob that refuses to disperse, a seed of doubt. 

They’re friends, good friends even. Chris likes nothing better than to come back to Megaton after a mission, slide into his familiar seat at the bar, and drink and talk with Gob until Moriarty bullies him out or Gob forces his home so he can heal up from whatever injuries he’s sustained. He likes to think that Gob likes it too. 

He’s here isn’t he?

“You really okay to give this a try?” Chris turns his face, his check pressed to the ghoul’s shoulder and his mouth muffled against the dirty old cotton. 

“Are you?” The ghoul shoots back and Chris tilts his face up with a frown furrowing his brow. 

“When are you gonna believe me when I say ‘Yes, Gob, I would like to try sex with you. I think it will be nice.”

The abrupt shift from innuendo to blunt description leaves the ghoul momentarily stunned, but he comes back to himself with a helpless sigh of a laugh. “Well you haven’t quite put it that way yet.” 

Chris quirks his lips back but the humor is tempered. “Look, Gob, I know we’re both pretty beat up and neither of us might be all that experienced at this, but I like you. I trust you. I’m not gonna lie and tell you you’re the prettiest face in the wastes, but still. You do a lot of things right. I like that.”

Gob knows the kid is dead serious, but the young man can’t help but slip into a goofy smile at the end, beaming at Gob stupidly and Gob hates that it does something for him. “Sweet talker.” 

“You should see what else I can do with my mouth.” Chris tries to say, but the words sound so ridiculous even to him that he dissolves into laughter, sagging heavily back onto Gob’s shoulder. 

Gob shakes his head and raises an arm to wrap it around his friend’s shoulder. “Shit, you are drunk kid.”

“Nah,” Chris manages to gasp, waving away Gob’s concern as he straightens and pulls him across the landing. “Just, you know, giddy.”

“You’re fucking drunk. I know drunk.”

“Yeah? Hey Wadsworth, go downstairs and stay there.”

“Yes sir.” 

Gob’s head twists around as he watches a very polite Mr. Handy hover out of the small room next to what is apparently Chris’ bedroom, quietly descending the staircase to the first floor.

“And turn the lights down please!” Chris calls over his shoulder, his arm around Gob’s back as he steers both of them towards the bedroom and, presumably, bed.

“Of course sir.” The robot calls up obligingly and in a moment the house is shuttered into near darkness, the floodlights which cast their beams up to the ceiling browning out to a low, fizzing power level. 

“Mood lighting.” Chris murmurs seemingly to himself and Gob shakes his head.

“You’re insane.”

“A little.” Chris concedes. “Is that a deal breaker?”

Gob looks at him incredulously as they make their way into the now mostly dark room and he let’s the human guide him back onto the narrow mattress, the two of them sinking down into the relatively soft springs. “Kid, I haven’t gotten a leg over in more than a century. I’ll take what I can get. I still don’t quite know why your so into this idea.”

The punch Chris throws at him is gentle enough but it’s still a surprise. 

“Ow!” Gob yelps, “Don’t hit me!”

“Damn it Gob,” Chris ignores him, leaning into Gob’s space so we can wrap a hand around his neck and tug his face close. “I. Like. You. Don’t make me say it again.”

Gob swallows. “Well you get so sweet when you’re like this I can’t help myself.”

It gets a laugh out of Chris which Gob counts as a victory. He lets himself relax into Chris’ touch, reaching up to gently wrap his hand around Chris wrist, grounding himself. 

“Asshole.”

“Drunk.”

It’s too dim in the room to make out any depth in Gob’s eyes, but Chris watches them closely anyways before he angles in to press his lips to the ghoul’s. 

It’s still warm and damp and _nice._ For a moment Chris considers pulling away to say so but no, that would be dumb, so he just presses in more, threading his hand into the motley tufts of what’s left of Gobs hair and angling his head so they can kiss a little deeper, a little bit more. 

Gob’s tentative at first, but growing bolder. Letting go of Chris’ wrist he moves to wrap his arm around Chris’ waist, squeezing him tight and tilting them back until they land on the bed with a woomph, stretched out sideways over the mattress, still trading slick, licking kisses. 

For a long moment Gob’s hand hovers over the closure of Chris’ pants, just resting there, his touch not even teasing. The young man groans against his lips and starts trying to wriggle out of his tank top, toeing off his boots eagerly. 

“Come on.” He grunts, wrestling the top over his head, leaving his hair wild in its wake, his eyes glittering. “Come _on_.” 

Gob can’t help himself, he lets out a little moan and sort of freezes, his fingertips moving ever so slowly to trail up the bare skin of Chris’ torso. 

He’s warm. And smooth. Under his fingers the young man’s body flexes slightly, his diaphragm expands and contracts with his accelerated breathing, pressing that beautiful, pale, _whole_ skin into Gob’s touch. 

“I wanna-” Chris whispers, and Gob’s head tilts back so he can look at Chris but the kid is looking at the space where his rotten fingers are touching his stomach. “I wanna do that too.” The Hero finishes, and he tilts forward with a little growl, moving Gob onto his back and fisting the hem of his t-shirt in his hands. 

“Come on Gob, I wanna see you.”

“You really don’t kid.” He offers up a token protest but doesn’t resist as the man wrestles the fabric up and over his head, struggling to pull it off Gob’s arms then tossing it carelessly behind him. 

Gob closes his eyes. 

Chris just stares, his gaze raking down the pocked and melted torso of his friend. No inch of his skin is left completely intact, no part of him un-ravaged by radiation. Deep and repeated layers of scaring build up over his rib bones, making them seem over enlarged and awkwardly protruding. His left pectoral muscle is overdeveloped, and a deep furrow of flesh is missing from the right. Underneath there’s a glimpse of burnt muscle and yellowing bone. His nipples are flat and look entirely inelastic where they aren’t interrupted by scars. His belly is in tatters, his hip bones bruised. 

It looks painful. Impossibly painful, far too much to endure. 

Chris’ heart is racing but it also hurts as he studies the mottled flesh and he lets out a little whine before he can help himself, hunching over and pressing his face very gently into Gob’s sternum, wanting to kiss him and wanting to take it away and wanting to make it better. 

He hadn’t expected it to hit him so strongly. 

Gob holds his breath and watches. 

It’s startling for him to see the Hero of the Wastes affected by something so seemingly inconsequential as his _skin_

“Kid, it’s okay.” He offers softly, awkwardly after a moment, moving a hand to run it gently over Chris’ hair. “It’s old news.”

Against his chest Chris gives a watery laugh and looks up with a sniff. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” The ghoul soothes. It really doesn’t hurt anymore, nothing like it did when his skin first started to slough off and leave this hideous new body behind. “I’m just glad you ain’t repulsed.”

“No.” Chris says, vehemently. He blinks a few times and swallows, visibly pulling himself together before sitting back so he can start working on the fly of Gob’s pants. “I’m not repulsed.”

Gob’s protests seemed to have dried up and blown away with the desert wind because he’s entirely unresisting as his friend works, tugging his pants and navy blue boxers down efficiently, grumbling in frustration when he’s hampered by Gob’s boots.

“Hang on.” The ghoul mutters, toeing off the heels of his boots and kicking them across the room so he can pull his clothes off proper, leaving him naked and exposed to his half-dressed friend still kneeling over his hips. 

“Nothing new, huh?” Gob jokes, nervously even as Chris starts to work his way out of his own trousers.

“What?” The young man asks, distracted as he tries to get naked without having to step away from the bed. He makes a series of frustrating noises and gives it his best shot but in the end what he has left of his coordination will only let him do this if he stands.

“Just you seen it before, huh? All those ferals you hunt down.” Gob’s words leave his mouth just as Chris’ pants and underwear hit the ground with soft thump. 

And God if Chris isn’t fucking _beautiful_.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” The man asks, voice incredulous, and Gob shrugs, his eyes raking over all that pale exposed skin hungrily before zeroing in on Chris’ eager, rosy erection. It’s been a long time since he’s seen a penis not his own, so it’s been a long time since he’s seen one that works as well as that. He feels a pang of nostalgia in his chest for the days of his distant youth when he took things like an erection for granted. 

“Hello?” A hand is waved in front of his eyes and Gob looks up guiltily as Chris gets back on the bed, pulling and shoving and tugging the two of them into the somewhat cramped space of the bare mattress. 

They settle after a moment, Chris’ smooth leg insinuated between the rough flesh of Gob’s own and the ghoul shivers, clamping down on the appendage before he can help it, rocking his groin forward and into the hollow Chris’ hip because he can’t resist. His own cock is just barely risen, his circulation is shit post-radiation and boners are a thing of the past, but it still feels _good._ He meant it when he said he still had working nerve endings. 

“You don’t actually think you look like that, do you?” Chris murmurs huskily, unabashedly returning the small thrusting motions Gob is offering up. 

“Jesus kid, I know what I look like.” Gob chokes out, reaching out and wrapping his hand around Chris’ upper arm tight, tugging him closer, closer. “Christ.”

“Gob-” Chris grunts, wrapping his own arm around to his friend’s back and anchoring them together, rolling his hips a little faster, jerking forward inelegant and eager against Gob’s skin. “Gob, fuck, you aren’t pretty but you’re not like _that_.”

“Gee, thanks-” Gob means to say something witty and sarcastic but it feels too good, he cuts himself short and tilts his head forward to press his forehead to Chris’.

“Christ that’s good.” Chris grunts, wiggling forward so there’s even less space between their hips, so they can press together tighter tighter tighter. “Is this as hard as you get?” Chris manages to grate the question out, breathless against Gob’s ear. 

“Yeah, that okay?”

“It’s fucking perfect, I don’t care-” Chris’ words devolve into a whine and he tilts his mouth forward to slot it over the ghoul’s, rubbing the rough lips against his own before licking forward and thrusting into Gob’s mouth, warm wet _nice_. 

 

The hand that’s trapped between their bodies squirms downward and lifts Gob’s cock so he can fist it against his own, making the ghoul gasp into Chris’ mouth, the man’s own tongue pressing back into Chris’ mouth for the first time and Chris moans, rutting forward harder. The feel of Gob’s cock-, the skin even down there is all slippery burn scars and pock marks but somehow it feels _nice_ against his own aching erection and he feels a blurt of precome spill from his prick, slicking his fist, edging them on. 

“Yeah, fuck yeah-” Gob grunts, shifting to give himself greater leverage, wrapping a hand around the back of Chris’ skull so he can pull him close, grateful for once for his lack of a nose so there’s nothing for them to crash together just warm lips, smooth and rough, rust and leather, sand and sunlight, fuck fuck fuck-

“Fuck I’m not, I can’t-” Chris pulls back to gasp, leaning forward to bury his face in Gob’s shoulder. 

“Keep going kid, keep going, don’t stop.” Gob orders, feeling the kids fingers turn into a fist at his back, his bicep flexing, fighting to get them closer closer. 

The springs of the mattress squeak obscenely, the metal siding to the room rattles when they smack it. Outside the room the jukebox still sings, giving them tempo, rhythm-

“Close kid, come on.” Gob grunts. “Don’t gotta last, let’s just- fuck, let’s just-”

“Fuck fuck fuck.” Chris is gasping, thrusting his hips forward into the tunnel of his hand in tight, shuddering spasms, gripping him tight to Gob, the ghoul’s counter thrusts making it all that much _more_.

“Fuck, Gob, fuck fuck! Fuck!” Chris’ eyes shut tight and he pushes forward for a last tight press, his hips juddering and shaking as he fights and fucks through his climax, semen bubbling up and spurting from his cock, covering his fist and his prick and Gob’s cock and the ghoul growls, reaching down to wrap his hand around the mess of their hands and their cocks and he’s grinding forward, grinding hard hard hard until suddenly he’s got it. 

“Damn! Ah-” He trails off, shaking, his hips moving in little abortive circles as he grinds out his climax against his partner, come not so much shooting as dribbling out of cock in wet splurts, adding to the mess. 

Chris shakes as he unwinds from the high, thighs tingling, toes still curled as he rubs his face against Gob’s skin. 

Gob is remarkably silent, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows, relishing the warm pleasure which suffuses his system, singing in his veins. 

The room is warm, humid from the activity which is a rare enough thing in the wastes, Their hands are still wrapped around their cocks minutes later, just holding, reluctant to remove the pressure. 

“Damn.” Gob murmurs, eventually, feeling the come begin to cool and grow tacky. “That was-”

“Nice, huh?” Chris slurs back. “And I didn’t even get around to what I wanted to do.”

A look of mild surprise crosses Gob’s features and after a moment he laughs warmly into the top of Chris’ head. “And what did you want to do kid?”

“I really wanted to fuck you.” Chris mumbles, unashamed, into Gob’s throat and the ghoul shakes his head. 

“Next time, I guess.” He offers blandly, refusing to acknowledge that Chris is still drunk and things could go very wrong in a few short hours with the dawn. For his part though, Chris just purrs happily at Gob’s words. 

“Next time.” He promises, and he tilts his head up, eyes still closed, and presses a kiss gently against the too-thin skin above the artery flowing through Gob’s throat. 

Then he lets go of their cocks and Gob can’t help the twitch of his hips- which is half interest and half over-stimulation- before he lets go too, leaning a bit away from the wet space they’ve made on the mattress so Chris can lean back over with his snagged tank top and wipe up the worst of the mess from their hands and the bed. 

“Yuck.” He mutters disinterestedly when he’s finished scraping come from the spaces between his fingers and he tosses the soiled garment behind him. Gob watches and snorts in amusement when he sees it land on top of the mostly-broken computer console Chris has on his desk. 

“What?” The human asks groggily and Gob just snorts again, giving into the arms which wrap around his torso and tug him forward.

“Nothing.” He murmurs to the top of Chris’ head and that’s enough for the hero of the wastes because he just twists his head over his shoulder and shouts. 

“Wadsworth! Lights off!” After a moment every light in the house goes out, leaving the two of them in darkness. 

“Nice huh?” The kid mumbles and Gob let’s the kid settle his head before he tucks his face back into that pale hair and just breathes. 

“Yeah kid, really nice.”

A few minutes of silence stretch between them and Gob tries to fall asleep before the cold dregs of anxiety settle into his stomach. He doesn’t startle however when the boy in his arms speaks up again and asks a quiet, sleepy question.

“Hey, you know what?”

Gob swallows to wet his throat before he can answer. “What?”

He can feel the stretch of Chris’ smile against his collar bone and it’s such a sweet sensation his heart beats just a little bit faster.

“In the morning, it will still be nice.”

The words leave silence in their wake. Gob has no idea what to say in reply. 

Apparently he doesn’t have to say anything because Chris just chuckles against his skin and wiggles a bit so he can burrow just a bit closer. 

“Goodnight Gob.” He whispers. 

Gob can’t help himself. He smiles. 

“Goodnight Chris.”


End file.
